|"And can you IMAGINE the fabulous |
dresses I'd make out of his skin, darlings?"
In the news, one of my favorite actors, Philip Seymour Hoffman, dies; the Scottish Parliament votes to legalize same-sex marriage; and the 2014 Winter Olympics open in Sochi, Russia amidst international outcry against Russia's draconian anti-gay laws. And on TV with have Josh Harber's sophomore effort at penning Friendship Is Magic, "Simple Ways."
It is difficult to deny that love triangles are popular at the moment. The marketing of both the Twilight and Hunger Games franchises depend heavily on the concept, for example, with the briefly ubiquitous "Team Jacob"/"Team Edward" t-shirts for the former and the somewhat less successful attempt to sell equivalent "Team Peeta"/"Team Gale" concepts for the latter. And I hate them. I find them a lazy way to build conflict based on a presumption of monogamy and heteronormativity, and in particular the way they're pushed in narratives for and about young people reflects a regressive desire into forcing people to choose a life partner young, when youth should be a time for experimentation and exploration, building the self-knowledge necessary to make that kind of choice.
And so I ought to hate the love triangle in this episode, and on first watching I did, because I completely misread its nature. I was fooled by the episode's standout scene, in which Rarity and Applejack play-act as caricatures of one another, each laying claim to the other's virtues in a way that makes quite clear they see them as flaws. It feels like the two of them fighting over Trenderhoof, which is a troubling narrative, since the idea of the ponies even considering privileging an imaginary, potential romance over their very real friendship is unsettling, out of character, and recalls the toxic "frenemies" concept I discussed way back in "The Ticket Master."
But Applejack has no actual interest in Trenderhoof--indeed, she appears to barely tolerate him--which means this love triangle isn't about Applejack and Rarity competing for his affections. This is about Rarity choosing between pursuing the disinterested Trenderhoof and maintaining her friendship with Applejack--the two pairings the love triangle implies, in other words, are not Trenderhoof-Rarity and Trenderhoof-Applejack, but rather Rarity-Trenderhoof and Rarity-Applejack. And it is Applejack who represents Rarity being true to herself.
Take a moment. Enjoy this. This is, given the cultural environment of 2014 and the endemic conservatism of both commercial children's television and toy companies, very likely as close as Friendship Is Magic will ever get to acknowledging homosexuality as something that actually exists. To put it in fan terms: Rarijack is now the next best thing to canon. (Note how the "imitating each other" scene ends with Rarity accidentally spilling something Applejack's gown and rubbing at it with both hooves--this would be incredibly suggestive for children's television if they were human.)
And of course Rarity chooses Applejack. It is obvious from the start that she will, because it is obvious from pretty much the moment Rarity begins changing herself that this episode is going to be about not changing oneself to impress another. But as with so many episodes in Season Four, there's something subtler going on as well, a critique of the very concept of the "crush." This starts from the moment at which Rarity reveals her crush on Trenderhoof: a room full of memorabilia and images of the object of one's interest is usually televisual code for a stalker, not a harmless crush. Indeed, the episode takes pains to parallel Rarity's behavior with Spike's, making a joke out of it when he finds her crying about Trenderhoof's interest in Applejack. Spike's crush on Rarity has led him to some pretty toxic behavior in the past, as we've discussed at length, and here Rarity engages in similar displays once she decides to keep pursuing Trenderhoof, creating a false persona for herself (simultaneously deceptive toward Trenderhoof and rather insulting to Applejack) and abandoning her work on the town festival.
But Rarity doesn't know Trenderhoof. She knows only his image and his writing; she has had next to no interaction with the pony himself, just as Trenderhoof knows only what little he's seen of Applejack. Both their infatuations are shallow fantasies, based on an image of the object of the infatuation constructed on very little information--and object is of course the right word here. Neither is particularly interested in actually getting to know the object of their crush, because that necessarily means finding out all the ways in which the fantasy is inevitably wrong. Applejack, unsurprisingly, cuts to the heart of the matter, when both Trenderhoof and Rarity pronounce how much they enjoy hauling apples, and Applejack sardonically comments that they should "try it sometime." Both are interested in surface appearances and being appreciated; neither has any understanding of or interest in the actual work involved.
This is, of course, a message for fans, and in particular for the type of fan who get passionately invested in fictional characters or celebrities. You cannot love someone you do not know; it is a physical impossibility. Love requires a relationship. It cannot happen at first sight or from a distance; those are fantasies and infatuations, based on a person who exists only in your head. Genuine caring and connection requires a reciprocating subject on the other end, just as with friendship.
In the end, of course, Rarity realizes how silly she's being. She became over-invested in an illusion, a story, and the story didn't match reality. It's the same thing that happened with Prince Blueblood back in Season One, really, just with the slight difference that Trenderhoof isn't actually a jerk, just not interested. (Note that once Applejack makes clear that she's not interested, his response is to express disappointment and then not bother her again.) Hopefully Rarity will learn this time.
I mean, Pinkie Pie is getting character development. At this point anything could happen.
Next week: Barbershop quartets are a proper subset of "anything."